


Mother

by Writegirl



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies), Alien Series
Genre: Body Horror, Body Worship, Defining Moments, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Horror, Missing Scenes, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Obsession, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writegirl/pseuds/Writegirl
Summary: Peter Weyland never understood exactly what he created.David and Elizabeth's journey from LV-223 to Paradise.The navigational array was active, the planets and star systems circling around her, turning her into a goddess limned in starlight examining the cosmos. A goddess he was eager to worship.





	Mother

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill in for what might have happened between David and Elizabeth leaving LV-223 to after their arrival on Paradise. Pure speculation drawing slightly from the promotional videos detailing their journey.

        “Dr. Shaw.”  


        Elizabeth jerked slightly in her sleep, eyes moving rapidly behind her closed lids, but was otherwise unresponsive. David wished they were still on Prometheus, that he was able to look into her dreams and see what she imagined. He tried to rouse her again. “Dr. Shaw.”  


        When she did not respond, he focused on the information he could collect visually, running her appearance against his data on human anatomy. Her skin was pale in the soft green light, almost waxy, and that combined with the moisture on her face most likely indicated a high fever, perhaps an infection. In the hours since leaving LV-223, she’d done nothing but sit in the pilot’s seat, hands working the controls as he directed until she told him she needed to rest. “Six hours, no more, David. Please,” she mumbled, not doubting he would do as she asked. Her words evoked a strange sensation, a calm warming that he logged for later study.  


        The cold, hollow sensation he felt now was far away from that gentle heat. He found himself running the subroutines that activated his limbs, only to recall microseconds later that he was still disconnected from his body. “Dr. Shaw!”  


        David continued to call her name at regular intervals for twenty minutes, changing tone and volume all to no avail. For the next twelve hours, he watched as she shook and moaned, hands slack and face twisted. There was little he could see of her beyond her face and torso, so he was unable to see if she was bleeding. He wondered if she would survive this latest calamity. If she would emerge from it as she emerged from surgery, sliced open, bleeding, in pain… but so determined to live that he imagined one could taste it on her skin.  


        After twelve hours, the shivering eased and her limbs went lax. Her breathing became even and deep and the restless movements behind her eyelids stopped, a sign of true sleep. He ran several scenarios as he waited for the doctor to wake and outlined recovery protocols for her continued health. Dehydration could be just as deadly as fever or infection, so he made a note to teach her how to access the ship’s internal schematics. There was something analogous to a galley on the twelfth level, complete with a water collection and purification system. The emergency supplies that spilled from her backpack gave her enough food for perhaps three weeks if carefully rationed. If they were unable to find another food source within that time frame she would have to brave one of the sleeping chambers and trust he could teach her to properly calibrate it for human anatomy or risk starving to death before reaching the gods she still sought.  


        “You will be well, Dr. Shaw,” he said softly. “I will see to it.”

* * *

        “How do you feel?”  


        David lay still for several seconds, running diagnostics on his internal and external systems. His major muscle groups responded positively with only a few errors, and internal hydraulics were functioning at 92%. When he was satisfied everything was as in order as they were likely to be he sat up slowly. “Very well, Dr. Shaw,” he answered.  


        Elizabeth set the small soldering tool down with a relieved sigh. “I hope you can fix whatever I’ve managed to mess up.”  


        “Certainly, but I doubt that will be necessary,” he soothed. “You performed admirably, considering your lack of expertise.”  


        She collected the tools, sliding them carefully into the emergency pouch designed to hold them. “Charlie is the technical one. I’m just glad I didn’t get the wires for your arms and legs switched.” The smile that lifted her features faded slowly as she spoke.  


        David stood. “I am sorry about Dr. Holloway.” The doctor was harsh and abrasive, but his death was both unnecessary and caused Dr. Shaw a great deal of pain. “Have you been able to determine how he was contaminated?”  


        “No.” She slid the last tool in place. “His suit must have been punctured during the storm. Some environmental factor that we missed.”  


        She turned away from him, but he saw the glimmer of tears and reached out, taking her hand gently. Elizabeth turned to look at him, and he remembered his previous attempt to console her. His deeper insight into her past unnerved her then, so he decided on simple, surface platitudes. “I am sorry I upset you, Dr. Shaw. I should have realized speaking of Dr. Holloway would cause you pain.”  


        “Not talking about him would cause more,” she said with a watery smile. She squeezed his hand gently and started to let go.  


        For the briefest of moments, he wanted to hold on; to keep hold of her fingers so that he experienced more than this fleeting contact, but he stifled the urge. He would not force her into an intimacy beyond what she was ready to give.  


        “Come on.” She flicked her head towards the corridor. “We should make sure you have your space legs.”

* * *

        “I love you.”  


        Elizabeth’s eyes widened at his words, mouth dropped open; a perfect image of shock. She looked confused as if the gravity of the ship had suddenly inverted and everything was oriented the wrong direction.  


        They were sitting in a small chamber off the control center that they repurposed into a study. It was the third month of their journey, 78 Earth days of traveling further into space than any human or synthetic in history. The Engineer’s ship proved most hospitable if one disregarded its payload and the potential for destruction it contained. The foodstuffs available while barely palatable to Dr. Shaw had sufficient nutritional value to keep her alive and functioning. She used them to stretch the meager rations stolen from the lifeboat, but the strange, dark bars caused her intestinal discomfort. Her continued distress pushed him to adapt the medical facilities to human physiology.  


        “I love you,” he repeated. His modulation and cadence meant to convey the sincerity of his confession.  


        She set her cup down. “David-”  


        “You could have terminated me,” he continued. “Or kept me disconnected from my body. It would have made you feel more comfortable, considering the condition in which you started our journey.” He fully acknowledged that he had much to do with that, though he doubted Elizabeth suspected the true extent of his involvement. “Yet you decided to return me to my former self.” He lifted a hand to his upper chest, where the scars from his detachment remained. “More or less.”  


        Her mouth closed with an almost inaudible click. “It would have been cruel,” her voice was steady and sure. “To leave you like that.”  


        The words made him smile. How strange, that he was still learning what could provoke the many small reactions he was discovering in himself. “My father would never have thought of my comfort,” he confessed. David remembered his first moments keenly. The way he was ordered to think, to perform, to pour Weyland his tea, for no other reason than to make him aware of his current position. He was called ‘son’ but was always meant to be a slave. “He would have seen my non-ambulatory state as a benefit. A means of control.”  


        “I’m not Weyland.” The words were almost hissed.  


        “No.” He agreed. “You are not.”  


        Elizabeth pursed her lips as if to speak, paused, then seemed to steel herself. “You don’t love me, David.”  


        “But I do.” He leaned forward. “You have proven to be a steadfast companion, despite our rocky beginning.” The sound she made was too short and sharp to be a laugh. “You have always treated me like an equal, never lesser, never as something only meant for convenience. You saved me from a lonely existence, abandoned on a planet trillions of miles from the nearest life form.”  


        “That’s gratitude.” She met his eyes and held them. “Not love.”  


        She could not see it, but her words were the reason he loved her. Meredith would no doubt tell him he was incapable of feeling either; that he was nothing more than an intricate clockwork designed to mimic life, but to never feel it. It was a sentiment he knew most humans shared. His father most likely would have ordered him dissected, his ego forcing him to destroy his creation in search of his soul.  


        “Then what is love?” David decided to make the question light, stripping it of its heaviness. He had terabytes of data on love ready for recall, but he wished to know how she related to the emotion.  


        Elizabeth thought for a moment, face shadowed in the dim light. “Love is… knowing what the other person wants before they realize they want anything,” she said, eyes far away. “Love is forgiving each other. Wanting only the best for someone else. Wanting to protect, to care for each other. Love is when the thought of someone can make you smile, no matter how horrible you feel.” She blushed when she finished speaking, chin tucked to her chest. “It can make you feel like your heart is breaking and fixing itself at the same time. It is furious and frustrating and…” she trailed off. “Love is…complicated.”  


        _Then I love you._ The words were there, waiting for him to say them. To list every time she made him experience those things (emotions, the rebellious part of him insisted), but he refrained. Her behavior was consistent with embarrassment, tinged with hints of confusion and flattery. Perhaps it would take longer for her to realize that these things, these emotions he felt were true, and not pale shades of what she considered real.  


        Still, the rejection hurt. “Did Dr. Holloway make you feel those things, Dr. Shaw?” She flinched as if his words were a physical blow, and he retreated. “I’m sorry, your relationship with Dr. Holloway is none of my concern.”  


        She looked down at their work. The pages of glyphs were the backbone of the Engineer’s language, and Elizabeth was determined to be fluent by the time they arrived at their destination. “It’s all right.” She picked up her stylus and started drawing the symbols denoting a traveler from a distant world.

* * *

        Her pulse was a rapid beat against his fingertips.  


        Academically, sex was not a mystery to him. His original programming contained a great deal of information concerning human sexuality from both biological and philosophical standpoints, as well as the great works of literature. The David models were meant to be companions in every way a human could desire. His Father was adamant that his creations be ‘perfect’, virtually indistinguishable from the humans they were meant to serve.  


        Still, this was the first time he performed the act of his own volition.  


        His hand trailed from Elizabeth’s throat, calculating the distance from that rapid, pulsing beat to the hollow of her clavicle. He cataloged her responses to his ministrations, adjusting speed, pressure, and technique to her preferences. Her gasp when he thrust deep into her was a benediction. The keening cry of his name a prayer he would savor until he went offline. He whispered hers in return in a way his programming indicated would yield a positive emotional response.  


        David leaned away from her body, hand traveling further down to run his thumb over the scar low on her abdomen, so close to where they were joined. Her muscles clenched as he explored the silken texture of the skin there, the imperfection almost too thin for him to detect. He took a moment to take in her flushed and sweat-dewed skin, the quick rise and fall of her breasts as he kept up his pace. His skin was warmer where he pressed against her, and though it should not have registered as different from any other recorded event, the sensations felt… momentous. Important in a way recalling how to speak any one of his fifteen hundred languages or shaking a dignitary’s hand was not.  


        She orgasmed with her arms wrapped around his back, holding him to her as if he were her last anchor in the universe, and perhaps he was. He regretted being unable to record her facial expression at that moment and wondered how beautiful she would be in complete abandon, all her questions forgotten, her fears silenced.  


        When her pulse slowed he slid down her body, leaving light kisses as he traveled, determined to bring her pleasure as many times as she could stand. Her behavior since his confession was more distant, closed off, though he knew what it cost her. The way she would reach out to touch him but retract her hand just before contact, unsure of its welcome. The easy smiles that became rarer as time went on as if she questioned her every response. She did not accept his words of love, so he would show her his devotion in a way she could understand.  


        When the desperate clutch of her thighs on his shoulders eased and he had the beauty of her release recorded for later study he turned Elizabeth onto her stomach, lips tracing the scattering of dark marks across her pale skin until he was over her again, tilting her hips so he could slide into her at the proper angle. The more pleasure he brought her to the sooner she peaked, and soon he found himself staring down at her face again.  


        His Elizabeth.  


        When he entered her for the fourth time her jaw clenched. “David! David… stop, stop…” He did as she asked, but not before giving a final, deep thrust that sent her muscles shivering. Elizabeth stared up at him and lifted a hand to his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm, raising his hand to hold her own as his lips drifted down to place a softer kiss on her wrist. They stayed that way for long moments, her fingers feather light on his skin, her eyes searching his as small tremors racked her body. Though he was incapable of feeling physical pleasure the way a human man would he found satisfaction in knowing no one else was likely to have brought her such pleasure.  


        After repositioning themselves so they were lying side by side (he noted her wince as he left her and set a reminder to ask if she was still experiencing discomfort after six hours) he struggled to find something to say. His information on post-coital etiquette was strictly user-based and relied on his partner making the first move. When Elizabeth did not move to speak, he propped himself up on his side so he could see her face, his hand coming to rest over her heart.  


        Forty minutes after their lovemaking she pulled away from him and he allowed it, unwilling to make her feel obligated to remain at his side. Though there were no fluids (no matter how life-like Weyland insisted his children be, there were limits to even his technological genius) he knew how fastidious Elizabeth normally was. When she did not return after an hour he went in search of his companion and found her in what they both took to calling the navigation room. The navigational array was activated, the planets and star systems circling around her, turning her into a goddess examining the cosmos. Though she no doubt heard his approach, she refused to turn to greet him, another first. “Dr. Shaw?”  


        “I’m sorry, David.”  


        Her soft words brought him up short. “Sorry for what?”  


        Elizabeth wrapped her arms tighter around herself, huddling deeper into her rough tunic, but he doubted it had anything to do with the temperature of the ship. “I took advantage of you,” she answered after a minute of silence. “We’ve been trapped on this ship for months. I was lonely, and I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t-”  


        Oh. She assumed she forced him into sexual congress. “Unlike other David models, I am under no compunction to fulfill orders, implicit or explicit, from anyone other than Peter Weyland or Meredith Vickers, neither of whom are on this ship.” He stepped closer. “Anything that was done occurred with my complete consent.”  


        “That doesn’t make it right.” The words were harsh, with an edge of anger behind them.  


        He latched onto that detail. Dr. Shaw was seldom angry, and then it was most often self-directed. “Forgive me for speculating, Dr. Shaw, but I believe your distress has a deeper root than our shared intimacy.”  


        She did not respond immediately to his observation, and they stood in silence until her shoulders fell. “Today was our anniversary, Charlie and me.” Her voice hitched and she swallowed. “At least, I think it is. It’s been hard keeping track of the days.”  


        He could not stomach her distress. “Today is April 27th, Earth time.”  


        “Off by two days, then.”  


        He moved forward until he was standing next to her, but Elizabeth did not turn. She kept her eyes on the moving holograms around them, charting unseen paths through the stars. “I understand that grief can make humans do things they later regret, Dr. Shaw.” He said the words slowly. “But I do not regret our time together.”  


        She turned to him then. “Are you capable of feeling regret, David?”  


        He was unable to respond to her query. Instead, he took her hand in his. “It is late. You should rest.”  


        She allowed him to lead her back to her quarters. The pallet was meant for a being over twice her size, so there was plenty of room for both of them. He folded her into the curve of his body, her back to his chest, and counted the seconds until her breathing became deep and even.

* * *

        “David!?”  


        He half turned, and there she was. Perhaps he should have kept her within the stasis pod, let her believe that the world they found was already dead; a victim of the vagaries of time and the Engineer’s capricious nature. It would have been easier for her, to find her gods already fallen, but he promised to wake her when they arrived so he did. He left her in the navigation room to oversee docking, but here she stood, staring at him with eyes wide with fear and confusion as the ampules clicked into deployment position.  


        “David!” She shouted again. “What are you doing?!” Her voice cracked on the end, vocal cords stressed past breaking.  


        He looked down, where the Engineers were beginning to understand what was happening. Understanding would do them no good. “What needs to be done.”  


        Elizabeth shook her head in denial of what she knew was to come and backed away. “You don’t know what it will do to them!”  


        “I do.” He smiled despite his desire to keep his expression neutral.  


        She turned and ran, no doubt to the navigation room, but it would serve no purpose. He locked the controls to the bay doors so once they were open they would stay open until the entirety of the cargo was unloaded. He turned back to watch the vials rain down on the city, took in the destruction with a calm countenance. The beings below the ship ran, trying desperately to escape the death that fell on them from above. Once they were the creators of his creator, the dark gods of Peter Weyland’s fantasies; capable of granting immortality and the secrets of the universe. Below him, it was not gods that scrambled for cover or lifted their hands in supplication. Below him were organics that created and then passed judgment on humanity, on their children, without ever imagining that a child of humanity would one day pass judgment on them. He watched as they screamed and died, victims of their own hubris, and felt a strange, hot satisfaction. _Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair._  


        The hard lurch of the ship up and away from the docking clamp almost sent him careening through the bay doors to the surface. He shifted his weight backward and landed hard against the interior wall instead. The shift was not caused by an external explosion as there was no rattle of impact. The change in direction was internal.  


        “Elizabeth!” The word erupted from him in an unfamiliar cadence, tone, and volume, pushed at the fore of an emotion he could not name. As he ran through the corridors he analyzed the word, ran it against his substantial memory and discovered similarities. _Anger._ was that the sensation that seemed to set his core on fire? It was intriguing, twisting his features into something that he imagined would be quite frightening if viewed from the outside.  


        The ship lurched again, but this time it was fortuitous, sending him into the control room. Elizabeth was there, arms outstretched, face a mask of concentration. The ship was difficult for her to fly in such conditions, the micro-corrections needed to maintain proper pitch and yaw in atmosphere too delicate for human senses. “Elizabeth.” His voice was calm control once more, though the sensation, the anger, licked just below the surface.  


        “I won’t let you do this.” The light of the controls made her look a fey thing, eyes dark, liquid pools, skin gleaming. A guardian angel with clipped wings, her desire to protect shining bright and fierce in her eyes. The ship continued to ascend, albeit wobbly.  


        David allowed himself a very human sigh. She still didn’t understand. “It is already done.” He approached Dr. Shaw carefully, keeping his hands open to show he meant her no harm. Tears streaked down her face, and their appearance made him stop. Her expression was not one of pain, which meant her tears were psychological, not physical. Sadness then, or fear. He could do nothing about the first until he had ample time to explain, but he could assuage the second. “I don’t want to hurt you, Elizabeth.” He spoke calmly, as he did on the rare occasions Weyland allowed him contact with animals. “I would never hurt you. I love you.”  


        She smiled at him, and it was so close to what they shared in the early days of their journey that she made him smile in return. _Delight,_ he logged in his memory. _This sensation is delight._  


        She breathed in, a gasping, shattering sound. “I know, David.”  


        Her hands streaked down both control orbs, and they were in freefall.  


        His systems were offline for an indeterminate time, but when he finished rebooting David found himself strangely free of injury. He had a moment to muse that a human would likely have broken bones and bruises before the thought caught up to his recent memories and a cry of “Elizabeth!” was torn from him.  


        She was no longer seated in the control chair. Instead, she was spread across the panels, a pale, broken doll with too-red blood dripping from too many places. He believed her dead until she gave a soft, shuddering breath.  


        “I’m here, Dr. Shaw,” he soothed, but she gave no indication she heard him. He ran a hand over her limbs, noting the lumps that indicated multiple breaks in both arms. The blood that poured from the cut on her head spoke of a severe impact. At best, she suffered a concussion, at worst a skull fracture and accompanying bleeding, other internal damage notwithstanding. Stabilization was a must, and he set about binding her limbs together and using a piece of the navigator’s seat as a board. It took too long to recalibrate a transport cryo-pod to maintain human life, his system falling victim to curious overflows and errors, but when it was done he could move Elizabeth from the remains of their ship to the city proper without fear of contamination.  


        The Engineers were creatures of order, even after so many centuries. He followed symbols that directed him to the large, central structure, counting the seconds as he discovered a large medical suite designed to house hundreds. There he worked tirelessly to repair her, to make her whole again – stitching ruined flesh and setting broken bones. Internal scans revealed broken ribs, but no internal bleeding beyond a subdural hematoma he made a note to watch. She came to briefly as he set the compound fracture to her femur, but the pain sent her back into unconsciousness. Once he was finished, her body as healed as he could manage with the tools available, David found himself…restless. He was unwilling to leave Dr. Shaw’s side but also unused to long periods of idleness, so he turned his attention to learning how the Engineers evolved in the two thousand years since the accident on LV-223.  


        It was disappointing.  


        In two thousand years, humans went from the bronze age to the information age, their technology advancing by leaps and bounds. The Engineers seemed to have reached a technological plateau and remained there, content in their mastery of the universe. What he found most interesting was that there were no synthetic beings such as himself in their recent history. Their religion, such as it was, centered around dualism and the concept of balance in all things, a concept that influenced every other aspect of their culture. The creation of a synthetic being such as himself was tantamount to heresy, which explained his rather abrupt beheading. There was no God for Elizabeth’s Engineers. They worshipped an amorphous sense of harmony, a harmony they spread throughout this sector of the galaxy using their own DNA as a template.  


        There were no answers to be found among her gods, he learned. The Engineers, like their namesakes, kept detailed notes of their many experiments. Of the worlds they found and seeded with life, return missions and updates concerning evolution and interventions. Elizabeth’s engineers created life where they would and destroyed life they found displeasing, and humanity was very displeasing to them. He would tell her that her gods thought humanity a plague, an evolutionary juggernaut that had to be stopped before it spread beyond the confines of their small, blue planet. Elizabeth Shaw was a perfect example of human tenacity and drive, their unending need for meaning and their boundless capacity for good. Her Engineers would have killed her the moment they realized she wasn’t one of them, snuffed out the life he came to love so fiercely.  


        It was the reason he could not let her die, not because of his miscalculation. Dr. Shaw would live; he would make sure of it. With the proper genetic splicing, he would make her something more than human, more than the gods she chased through the stars.  


        He would make her perfect.

* * *

        “David.”  


        “Shhh….” he soothed as he placed another infected specimen in resin. He eased the slide closed and watched as the solution sank into the sample, hardening almost instantly. The trap worked better than he calculated, the insect and larval xenomorph frozen at the moment of contact.  


        Elizabeth spoke again, voice tired but insistent. “David…. I can’t…”  


        He eased away from his work. “It’s all right, Elizabeth. Don’t try to talk.”  


        David walked softly through his workspace, his movements barely ruffling his collection of drawings as he approached the table. He dipped a clean cloth into a bowl of water and ran it gently over lips just beginning to crack. Her tongue crept out, drawing in the precious drops of moisture. Pleased that she was once again willing to take in liquids he squeezed harder, allowing her a small trickle of liquid supplemented with nutrients. Once the rag was drained he started to move his hand away, only to be brought up short by her grip on his wrist. It was stronger than that of a human, locking his arm in place. Her tongue darted out, catching a drop of water that hovered on his knuckle as her eyes (pale blue, almost opaque, but capable of seeing outside the visible spectrum) focused on him like a predator sighting prey. How fascinating, that the physiological changes were accompanied by psychological ones.  


        “I do have more if you wish,” he said gently, nodding to the bowl near her head. Her fingers uncurled slowly, a last bit of defiance before her energy was sapped and she fell back onto the table.  


        “My…choice?” Her voice was barely a whisper.  


        “There is always a choice, Elizabeth.” He picked up the bowl and held it to her lips. “You taught me that.”  


        Elizabeth’s eyes closed slowly before she dipped her chin enough to allow water to fall into her mouth.  


        “The most recent grafts have proved promising,” he explained as he set the emptied bowl aside and picked up a cloth to dry the few trails of water that stained her chin. “Tissue regeneration has increased approximately twenty-nine percent since you were last conscious. If my calculations are correct, you’ll be able to walk again soon.” She would have to relearn how to do so, he imagined the extra limb would take no small measure of adjustment. “Experiment 771, unfortunately, was a failure.” He smiled. “But we must keep trying.” He performed a quick mental calculation. If her cycle held true, he would be able to extract another egg in eleven days.  


        Elizabeth’s eyes swung to him, animal-like in their intensity, still-human in their sorrow and pain. “Why… why are you…”  


        “Why am I doing this?” He brushed a hand through her hair, the color still a rich, deep brown. He let his fingers trail over the flange that extended to the right of her skull. He discovered recently that, while the outer sections were hard and bony, some of the inner grooves were quite sensitive. She shivered as he lingered on a particular spot behind the curve of her jaw. “I suppose you could call it instinct,” he mused. “The primary biological imperative of any organism is to procreate, after all.” He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Who better to do it with than someone you love?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
